


a man in leather shorts

by criminalmischief



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Short, Stripper!Rhett, actually very short, nervous!link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminalmischief/pseuds/criminalmischief
Summary: It's Link's first time at a strip club, and Rhett is happy to see the nervous newcomer.





	a man in leather shorts

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that one video where Rhett is supposed to be cleaning and then just strips. Very loosely based on that, there are a few similarities.

It was another dreary, dreadful Saturday night at the bar Rhett found himself still working at. One that he’d only gotten to pay his way through college, and had continued to stay at after college didn’t quite work out. Turns out that engineering was really not his thing. He hadn’t actually found his thing quite yet, but was hoping to before he wasted away all his good years with his impossibly tall frame wrapped around a pole.

Link found himself at the same bar that night. Dragged there by a few of his more adventurous work friends, who’d been ranting and raving about his place for weeks now. Nudging his glasses up on his nose, he peered up at the neon sign, proclaiming the name for all to see, and displaying a bright red, blinking person dancing around a pole. He was ushered inside by his giggling coworkers, nudging each other over some shared secret that Link was too distracted to care about.

The atmosphere was a little too much for him; the bright lights and blaring music vibrating the very floor beneath his sneakers — were sneakers and a jean jacket inappropriate to wear to a strip club? Maybe so, but it was too late to change now. The poor man was always second guessing himself, about what he wore, his hair, his sexuality — yikes. Especially that last one. Something he’d left on a back burner all throughout high school and college, because every time he’d been with a woman, it felt like something was.. missing. A spark, a connection.. something.

Rhett was actually getting ready to leave when Link and his friends came in, but that stopped all too quick when his boss swung open the door to his dressing room — well, the communal dressing room — and nodded outside the door.

The blond, bearded man had barely a moment to open his mouth before the words “Private dance,” came out of his boss’s mouth. And a private dance was something no one should overlook. That meant big money. Somebody who’d just won big at the casino around the bend, or owned some software company, or a bachelor/ette party, or even a birthday. Some big occasion that Rhett didn’t have the financial stability to look over. So he huffed and he puffed and he got back into his costume for the night.

Not a costume so much as.. well, an outfit. He slipped on some overalls over his very very short leather shorts, fluffing his hair up to a presentable look in the mirror before he left. If he got lucky, he could just do a quick show. Drop the overalls and shake his ass a couple times, and then just pocket the cash and go home. Easy peasy.

Link, on the other hand, was protesting his heart out as his so-called friends insisted that he bypass the bar and go back to what appeared to be a private area. He was just very confused — he knew it was a strip club, as well as a bar, but the only dancers he’d seen out were men, and — they couldn’t.. no, they couldn’t possibly know about his questioning. Or, was he that obvious? God, no, he couldn’t have been. Right?

But he didn’t have enough time to dwell on anything except the music that he could feel in his bones as he was shoved through the curtains of the private room. He was immediately met with a man bending over in front of him — stretching? “U-um.. hello?” Link murmured, clearing his throat.

He watched as the evidently very tall man stood to his full height — the overalls revealing the musculature of his back, and his shoulder blades — and then turning around to reveal kind green eyes and fluffy blond hair, and wow — Link was now staring, and had the man said something?

“What?” Link asked, shaking himself out of the man’s perfectly sculpted face, and away from those freckled shoulders of his.

Rhett chuckled, his deep, warm baritones making Link’s muscles both relax and tense up at the same time. He gestured to a black leather couch, silently suggesting that Link go take a seat. “You’ve never been here before, huh?”

Link shook his head, awestruck at the idea that this was happening to him, of all people. He wasn’t going to complain — except perhaps about the anxiety rising in his chest about how dirty that leather couch might be. How many people had sat there? He wanted to grab a wet wipe or something and give it a good once-over, but he realized how strange that might be for a first meeting. So he just took a seat, instinctively crossing one leg over the other and then shifting it back off again. He sighed.

Rhett made his way over to stand in front of the newcomer, a broad half-smirk hiding beneath his mustache. Hands on his hips, a mischievous look glinted in those bright eyes. Maybe he’d stay a little longer than he’d had planned. Those blue doe eyes. The lost-ness of a first-timer. The cute little jean jacket this man was wearing, even. “I won’t enforce the no-touching rule for you, because you’re just so darn cute,” he teased, flashing a wink that Link positively melted into the couch at. 

Link’s face was a brilliant ruby red as he watched the tall drink of water in front of him start to move to the music that Link was very suddenly aware of. The bearded man did as usual and unclipped his sleeve, baring his freckled, broad shoulders one at a time as he tossed them back over his shoulders. And of course, Link was awestruck. He nudged his glasses up on his nose, those wide doe eyes captivated by Rhett’s every move. He decided to start light conversation.

“So, ah, what’s the theme? What’s with the overalls, man?” Link asked. The words themselves seemed to come off as joking, but he said them with a sincere look on his face. “You some kinda farmer?”

Rhett laughed softly, a warm, soothing laugh that made Link’s muscles relax a bit. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. This guy seemed to be friendly enough. “Y’know, I’m not sure,” he admitted with a shrug as he took a few steps closer to Link. “I was told I had a customer, and I just kinda threw something on. Of course, if I woulda known it was gonna be you, I woulda dolled myself up a little more,” Rhett said with a wink. Link could now hear a very clear southern accent in his already warm tones. Just his voice conjured up an image of a campfire on a cool fall night, the breeze in Link’s hair... it felt so familiar, like home. And to think he’d found his home at a strip club.

“I have something on underneath that I’m sure you’ll like a bit better,” offered Rhett, pulling the black-haired man out of his embarrassing stupor. Link absentmindedly nodded, a slight smirk at the edge of his lips that seemed to say, ‘Oh yeah?’

So Rhett dropped the infamous overalls, revealing those wonderfully tight leather shorts that left very, very little to the imagination. Link’s face filled once again with the cherry-red color of someone who has just been caught dong something they knew very well not to do. And it only worsened when Rhett turned around, reminding the shorter of the two just how close he was. Link’s hands almost rose up to meet Rhett’s waiting hips, like an instinct, but he managed to look and not touch, even though he’d pretty much been given permission to. It was just all so new, so affirming of his confusion.

Eventually those hips settled in Link’s lap, or more appropriately, right above it. Hovering there, just barely grazing the tops of Link’s thighs, giving a perfectly frustrating amount of friction. More than Rhett did for a lot of people. Link was very amazed at how good it felt for this specific lumberjack of a man to be giving him a lap dance to some pop song he’d never heard before. This man who he felt some sort of perfect, campfire-y spark with, and who very much pulled off those leather shorts that did indeed show Link much more than he’d bargained for (but much less than he realized he wanted).

“I’m suddenly really glad I got dragged here,” Link said, letting himself take it all in. He very much enjoyed himself that night, even with the thought of the dirty couch beneath him in the back of his mind.


End file.
